Southend U3A

September 2024

Rhyme or Reason? - Marie Day

Once upon a time in a land far away there was a road. And in that road, there was a building. And in that building was an office. And in that office was a very small man sitting on a very tall chair at an enormous desk. On the front of the enormous desk was a name plate. It said ‘Mr. O. MacDonald’. The very small man was speaking on the telephone. Well, he was trying to speak but the person on the end of the line was conducting a one-sided conversation.

‘Yes, but . . . I understand . . . I’m doing my best . . . Yes, your majesty . . . No, your majesty . . . Right away, your majesty . . .’

The now tiny, trembling man ended the call and gave an involuntary shiver. He called out to someone in the next room. ‘Mary, I need you to take some notes.’

A very pretty, golden haired girl skipped into the office, notebook in hand, followed by a little, white lamb. The lamb proceeded to run round the room bleating.

‘I know it’s ‘bring your pet to work’ day, Mary but could you try to confine your lamb to your office?’

‘He’s very protective of me, Mr. MacDonald. He even tried to follow me to school when I was younger. Oh, how the other children laughed. My teacher wasn’t too pleased though.’

MacDonald sighed. ‘Never mind all that. Take this down, Mary. It has to be made into posters and displayed round the town by morning.’

He began to dictate.

‘To all the citizens of Nursery Land and especially all members of this association. In my capacity as ‘Executive of the Institute to Establish Impeccable Order’ this edict is sent from the highest echelons to demand you desist from any desecration from the historical wording in all nursery rhymes. This is by order of Her Majesty the Queen of Hearts. Those not showing this restraint will be in violation of the constitution of this realm.’ By Order of O. MacDonald E.I.E.I.O.

Mary shook her head but said nothing. Collected her lamb from rummaging in the waste paper bin and set off for the printers. Before morning the large copies were posted on noticeboards, lampposts and walls all around the town.

MacDonald paced his office after experiencing another one-sided conversation with the Queen of Hearts. This time in person, as he’d been summoned into her presence the previous evening. The King wasn’t there as he was counting his money and the Knave was feeling sick as he’d admitted to eating too many stolen tarts. In the absence of said tarts the Queen made do with bread and honey for her tea and was in a belligerent mood.

‘There is no reason to change any of the wording of our traditional rhymes, MacDonald,’ she fumed. ‘Tradition over modernisation, that’s my mantra. You must make this clear. I can’t have anyone playing fast and loose with established practice. Go back to your office – no negotiations – this Queen is not for turning!’

And with a backward glare she left the room with one last sentence, ‘You know it makes sense.’

With that, MacDonald was shown out by a maid with a bandage on what was left of her nose.

Just as he was musing over the night before, a horrendous noise of chanting came from outside. MacDonald, Mary and her lamb looked out of the window and saw a crowd of nursery characters; some waving placards. MacDonald’s shoulders sagged and kind hearted Mary said, trying to be positive, ‘I’ll get Polly to put the kettle on and by the time Suki takes it off again they’ll all have gone away.’

MacDonald absent-mindedly nodded and said, ‘Just make sure Sukie doesn’t take it off too soon – the last cuppa was lukewarm.’

Mary left the office dragging her lamb away from the office Yucca plant as some leaves were already chewed.

Outside, the crowd parted and a small boy emerged and walked determinedly up to the door of the Institute and, to wild cheering, turned and gave a Winston Churchill victory salute before he pushed the door open and entered. MacDonald groaned as he recognised his visitor. Could his day get any worse? He heard Mary trying to apply the voice of reason but the door crashed open and the boy marched in.

‘Good morning, Master Winkie,’ began MacDonald.

‘Never mind that MacD I’m here to represent my members. We demand modernised rhymes and we want it now. We are not prepared to back down. All except brother Incy Wincy of course who is tired of climbing all the way up the spout just to be washed out again.’

MacDonald jumped in the first chance he got.

‘M

aster Winkie, or may I call you Wee Willie? Speaking man to man, the Queen likes things the way they are.’ Wee Willie took a deep breath, ‘Come and speak to my comrades in rhyme. We can surely find an amicable solution to this.’

As they agreed to this, MacDonald noticed the boy’s attire. He was wearing a onesie and was carrying a torch.

Wee Willie explained, ‘This is what we mean, MacD – this is so much warmer than a nightgown – gets a bit draughty running round the town at night. The torch is safer than a candle – last New Year I nearly set fire to the bobble on my nightcap in a high wind! Come and speak to the others.’

The sound outside the Institute was deafening. MacDonald read some of the placards, ‘Free the blackbird 24’, ‘Tom, Tom is Innocent,’ and notably ‘Fill in the Potholes.’ (That was Dr. Foster who did look decidedly damp around his lower regions.) The crowd fell silent. Over the next two hours there was much discussion accompanied by cups of tea provided by Mary, Polly and Suki. MacDonald returned to his office promising to try to end the dispute.

‘Mary, get me the royal residence.’

‘Shall I put you through to the Queen?’

‘No, please ask for the King’s private line and ask if the Knave can join the call.’

The King’s genial face appeared on screen with, two seconds later, the cheeky one belonging to the Knave. When the King was told of the escalation, he told MacDonald what to do next.

‘What about the Queen?’ mumbled MacDonald.

‘Leave her to us,’ the Knave grinned.

Two days later, after much secret activity, Mary came into the office.

‘Wee Willie is getting the characters together. They’ve something to present to the Queen.’

The three girls collected tea and, outside, put it on a table laid with some of Mrs. Horner’s plum pie and Miss Muffet’s curds and whey. A large screen stood in front of the crowd. Down the road the sound of horse’s hooves signalled the arrival of a golden coach. It halted outside the Institute and the Queen alighted looking like someone whose weasel had just popped. She was followed by the King and the Knave who placed a fresh platter of tarts onto the table. The Queen slumped into a waiting throne and the King sat in one next to her. The Knave twirled his moustache and winked at Mary. Then thought better of it when her lamb licked its lips and eyed the Knave’s garters hungrily.

MacDonald called everyone to order and explained that he had a short film to show the Queen to help her understand her subject’s protests. The screen burst into action. A disembodied voice began, ‘These are the nursery characters and these are their stories.’ Two very pretty girls appeared; one in a bonnet and one with a trowel in her hand. They spoke.

‘Hello, I’m Bo and I’m a shepherdess. I’m always losing my sheep but now I’ve had them microchipped so if they wander off, I can easily find them.’

The other girl piped up, ‘I’m Mary, Mary – so good Mum named me twice – no sheep wandering free in my garden means silver bells ring, cockle shells cockle and pretty maids keep in order!’

The faces changed to a boy and girl.

‘Hi, I’m Jack.’

‘And I’m Jill.’

‘We’ve had an outside tap fitted to the cottage so there’s no need to climb the hill for water.’ Jack beamed, ‘No falling down, no concussion and I don’t smell of vinegar anymore.’

Lastly two women came onto the screen. One held a baby.

‘Hello, I’m Mrs. Horner. My son Little Jack has learnt not to play with his food, so no more sticky thumbs.’ A gap-toothed, little boy popped up on screen giving a thumbs up sign.

The lady holding the baby joined in, ‘I’ve found a lovely crèche for baby Rocky so no health and safety concerns leaving him to sleep in treetops on windy days.

The film ended with the disembodied voice, ‘These are just some of the stories from modern Nurseryland.’ The words ‘THIS HAS BEEN AN INSTITUTE PRODUCTION’ came up on the screen before it went blank. There was silence and then applause as they all looked at the Queen. The King had said leave it to him, so E.I.E.I.O. Macdonald did just that. The King patted his wife’s hand.

‘Dearest Queenie Weenie. Think of all the good that comes from this. No sending soldiers to clear up egg shells, no depletion of garden birds and, for my part, I can do online banking so no more piles of coins – you know I always lose count.’

Meanwhile the Knave knelt by his mother looking at her with big, brown eyes and patting her other hand, ‘And Mumsy, I could clear my rap sheet and lose weight by not stealing any more confectionery.’

Everyone collectively held their breath. The Queen stood, looked at them all and said, ‘Polly, mine’s two sugars and strong enough to stand Bo Peep’s crook in. I’ll have a piece of Mrs. Horner’s pie but please check it for any stray digits just in case.’

Early next morning E.I.E.I.O Macdonald arrived bright and early to see the change to the sign outside the Institute. It still said: ‘Institute of Established Impeccable Order’ but underneath was added: ‘With the Opportunity to Modernise if You So Wish, by order of Their Majesties the Queen and King of Hearts.’

With a happy sigh, MacDonald almost danced through the doorway.

‘Put the kettle on Polly – we’ll all have tea.’

He entered his office and over his shoulder he called out, ‘Mary, please get that lamb out of what’s left of my Yucca plant.’

‘Yes, Mr. MacDonald. Sorry Mr. MacDonald.’

And of course, they all lived happily ever after.